Shinigami Eyes
by wynterarrow
Summary: "You are a Shinigami," he said. "You will become my student, and when the time is right, you will take my place." When she's captured on a mission to kill Chika and Shito, she is forced to choose between love and her obligation to Zarame.
1. The Unfortunate Events

First chapter revised May 27th, 2011

CHAPTIRE ONE: THE UNFORTUNATE EVENTS AND LETTERS SHE SENT

"Dear Aunt Yuki,

I'll be honest with you—although my parents said you and Uncle were willing to share your home with me in the event of their death, I'm not too sure if that was true or not.

My apologies, but I refuse your offer, as well as my parent's wishes. As Mother and Father requested in their will, I will share part of the inheritance with you.

The government issues have been taken care of. Please, do not trouble yourself over this, and I hope that you are satisfied with this arrangement.

-Kita Michiru."

She penned the last words with more force than necessary, sending a messy ink blot across the page.

"Greedy bastards," she muttered. Her normally gentle and kind features were cold. "All they want is the inheritance." With a deft movement of her hand, she folded the page in half and sealed it into an envelope, slapping on a few stamps.

With the electricity bills half-paid, she'd completely pulled everything she didn't need, including her computer. Her current part-time job just couldn't cover the costs. Email was out of the question, and she really didn't want to even talk to her relatives.

Michiru glanced at the glass picture she had of her mother and father. "I'm sorry, but I don't want to live with them forever."

She stood, taking the envelope, and went outside. The slim sliver of moon was obscured by the black outlines of the tree by her house, a silvery-gray luminescence covering the empty road. The cold grass felt uncomfortable and prickly against her bare feet, so she quickly strode to the mailbox and jammed the envelope in. She paused, the metal glinting with moonlight.

"Mother, Father…. Why'd you have to leave?"

She shuddered as a sudden gust of wind blew her hair back, ruffling her baggy pajamas. "That's not the answer that I was looking for," she shouted into the wind.

After gazing uncomfortably at the unusually quiet street, she headed back inside. As the front door slammed and she clicked the lock shut, the trees rustled softly, a silent showering of rain leaves filling the air.

-_Shinigami Eyes-_

I immediately opened my eyes to find myself lying on my bed, the covers twisted around my body, the cotton sheets uncomfortably hot. My hair was plastered in slick bangs across my forehead—a nightmare. My glasses were lying next to me, and I reached for them, thought better of it, and rushed to the bathroom. Bile rose in my mouth and I was quietly sick, the feverish heat dissipating under the coldness of the room.

After I was done, I brushed my teeth and turned on the lights, feeling the panic go away under the warm glow. My reflection glared sullenly back at me, and I narrowed my eyes in response. My feet padded silently against the creamy white carpet as I left, the lights automatically going out behind me.

It had been two years since my parents died. Two years since my life was destroyed, two years of suffering from these nightmares day after day.

The fact that I had still had school didn't help either. I slumped against the sofa, feeling a headache pounding at my head.

I was in my freshman year of college, having used my own fortune to pay for my tuition. My aunt and uncle had received a quarter of the inheritance, which was quite a lot. I cursed silently in my head, wondering why I kept dreaming of my mother and father.

_The rings, _I decided. _The rings are my curse. They caused my parents to die._

I had always seen those black rings around, even from my birth. Once, when I was still little, I had a friend named Shizuka, a cheerful girl in my class. I went to school with her every day, and the ring had appeared one morning. I commented on it, even tracing it on her neck as proof. _How could she not have seen?_ I remember asking that question to my teacher, the adults, everyone—Shizuka had a black ring around her neck. I couldn't understand why they couldn't see it, and finally when the other children began regarding me as 'different,' I stopped. I pretended it was no longer there.

Shizuka died one week later when a fire burned her house to ashes. She was only six.

The ring had turned pure black when she went home that evening. It was the last time I ever saw her.

More incidents began to occur—that old neighbor next door, the man walking in the street, the people on TV in the news—they all died when the ring turned black.

So naturally, I kept silent. What else could I have done? And on the day my parents' rings turned black, I begged them not to go. I begged them to stay home with me.

They only laughed and promised to come home after work, dismissing my fears as a quirk, phase, whatever they thought it was. _"We'll come back, we promise! Don't worry."_

What a lie.


	2. Return

CHAPTIRE TWO: RETURN

There was a reason why I wrote those letters.

I was already a nameless, blank girl at high school whose social status would never rise, no matter what I did. My relatives didn't give a damn for me, and my so-called friends all abandoned me long ago.

But there was one more reason.

The day after my parent's funeral, I visited their graves again to lay fresh flowers on the headstones. My relatives were all gone, but I didn't mind. It was better this way.

Shortly after I had arrived, it began to rain. Being the stupid girl I was, I didn't bring an umbrella. Before long, I was soaked from head to toe, and I was shivering violently. _It would be better if I died from a cold right now, _I thought. My glasses were spattered with rain, and I took them off to dry.

Instantly, the scene changed. I could see clearly, and strangely enough a black cross floated above certain gravestones. One lay across the neighboring stone, and I bent down to read it.

_Luke Roselius. May 4__th__, 1899- June 6__th__, 1923. "Till death do us part, those you love will never truly leave your side." _

"It was suicide. I took him myself."

I jumped, blinking the rain from my eyes. The speaker was a teenager, with flaming blood-red hair and deep olive-green eyes like my own. Unlike myself, he seemed to be dry. He was dressed in black jeans, with a heavy silver belt and snake-like tattoos twining across both arms. His black shirt, emblazoned with a cross, seemed enough to keep him warm.

"Oh… um, was he your friend, or… um…" _Damn. I don't know what to say. He's kinda hot, actually… Michiru, stop! _"I'm sorry…"

"No, not at all." He was smiling slightly, and it wasn't a kind smile, something more like _oh-you're-such-an-ignorant-little-girl- _smile. "_I took him to Hell myself," _he whispered.

"You killed him?" I stared at him, forgetting the cold in my suspicion. I glanced around. There was no one else out on a day like this, and I whipped my phone out from my pocket. Black screen. I frantically pressed a couple of buttons, but the rain must have shorted it out. It slipped from between my numb fingers and shattered on the ground.

"I've killed plenty of people in my time. Silly girl," he added. "Don't you know who I am?" He took a step closer, the thick chain on his belt glinting coldly in the hazy light.

"No! Get away from me!"

"I thought you said you want to die." He was smiling now, and he sauntered forward.

"How did you read my mind? You weren't even here!" I slipped, and before I could react, I saw a jet-black ring around his neck. It had a silvery design twining along the mark, and my eyes widened. "That's…"

"_I'm a Shinigami. The Grim Reaper Zarame, at your service." _He made a mock bow. In a split second, he was no longer the teenager he was. A black and silver scythe lay across my throat, the handle resting in his hand. He was now wearing a tattered cloak, black bandages wrapped around his arms and face. One eye was completely covered by the bandages, and he wore dusky gray pants emblazoned with a skull and cross.

"No! I don't believe—get away—"

The blade pressed harder at my throat, cutting into the thick band of death encircling my neck. I could feel hot blood trickling down my neck and staining my collar. The rain pelted harder, stinging the wound. "Ow!"

"_You speak our language. Do not pretend you cannot see the truth. You are a Shinigami." _A flash of cold steel, and the scythe was lying in his hands. The pressure lifted from my neck, and I immediately scrambled back. He was wearing a look of cold contempt. _"Whether you like it not, you are now my apprentice. You will abandon your ignorant human customs and train." _

"No—" I was shaking with fear.

"Get up." He spoke in English. "Cut off all ties with your relatives. Do not return to school. You have two months to prepare. When I return, do not make excuses."

With a slash of his scythe, and a storm of what looked like black feathers stained with blood, he disappeared. The rain instantly disappeared. My clothes were still soaked, and I got up. My back ached from falling so hard, and my phone was damaged beyond repair. I picked the pieces up and wiped at the blood streaming from my neck, then headed home in a pain-filled daze.

-end of chapter—

Well… that was a bit depressing. Reviews!


	3. Death Blade I

Wow, it's been a long time since I've updated… I'm considering revising the first chapter. What do you think?

CHAPTIRE THREE: DEATH BLADE I

It was sunset.

Michiru opened her eyes, a gentle breeze tossing her pale pink hair around her shoulder.

Today was the day he promised he would take her. Michiru crossed her legs, shifting comfortably on the edge of the balcony. Her belongings were packed in a single suitcase, just a couple of her favorite outfits and her possessions.

It wasn't very much, but she felt that she should leave the past behind. Inside the house, she had already fed her photographs to the fire, and all the letters she had written to her relatives. She hadn't mailed most of them.

She was too afraid.

_Mother, Father… if you could see me now…_

It was now almost dark, with only a few streaks of pink and gold at the horizon. She was a bit drowsy and swung her legs back and forth over the edge, leaning against the wall. A sharp breeze blew across her skin and she shivered, wishing that she had more than an oversized 'Death to Barbie' shirt and black shorts on. Her mismatched but colorful stockings didn't really help keep her legs warm either.

_A few more minutes until it's really night… _She checked her watch. 6:30 P.M. It was winter, so the sun set quite early. _I'm beginning to wonder if I was only hallucinating._

She nearly laughed out loud with the absurdness of it all. What was she doing? What if it was a hallucination? _Stupid._

But the boy had been real. She still had a slight scar at her throat, and with a cold touch of fear she remembered the look of indifference he had given her.

Strangely enough, after a while, she began to doze off. Her eyes slid shut, and without even knowing, she fell asleep.

Another short chapter for such a long wait, I'm afraid. But I'll be posting another one right after this, so don't worry! And please review!


	4. Blade and Blood

Author's Note: I apologize if anyone's been waiting for this story to be updated… only for me to do so around a year later. I'm sure you'll understand… life, school, so-on-and-so-forth… I guess I just needed motivation. Thanks to Nightoshi for reminding me about this story! Also many thanks to Kimmy, Rain Nightwalker, Tyurruu, Astraea's Judgement, and Sakura for reviewing as well.

But I'll try to update sooner next time. I promise.

In which we meet the boys!

Disclaimer: I do not own Zombie Loan.

Chapter Four: Blade and Blood

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Yuuta hummed cheerfully to himself, delicately measuring out a precise amount of tea leaves into a small pot seething with steam. He closed the lid and turned to sit onto the bedraggled couch, next to a lightly dozing Bekko.

The Undertaker trembled nervously, his hands continuously tapping on his prayer beads as of their own will.

_Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._

The violet-eyed boy simply smiled at the Undertaker. His purple jacket hood, this time decorated with twin black cat ears, twitched endearingly as he tilted his head. One slim hand rose to form a dog, which opened and closed its 'mouth' as Yuuta pretended to be absorbed in what it was saying. "Kon-Kon asks if anything's the matter, Mister Sougiya."

The older man shook his head vigorously and mumbled something under his breath, nervously adjusting the glasses on his face. He could see a faint sheen of sweat on his thinning forehead and his upper lip.

Faint shouting could be heard outside of the vast warehouse. Bekko slept on, oblivious to the impending disaster nearing their quiet bubble.

Yuuta grinned widely; he privately thought the Undertaker was so fun to scare! "Ken-Ken says you're lying," he began with a creepy voice, leaning forward, other hand-puppet's mouth wide in a leer, and was rewarded with a sworn oath and a half-muttered katra. The poor man's prayer beads clicked vigorously.

Punctuated by more spatters of gunshots and shouting. Very infuriated, not to mention _loud _shouting.

"S-shouldn't we do some-something about—" At this, the Undertaker gestured spasmodically in the vague direction of the shouting. Yuuta had a pretty good idea about who it was and dropped his hand.

"No," he said cheerfully, sitting back, waiting for his tea to boil. Just then, the door flew open and Shito tumbled in, his katana in hand. He rolled to his feet.

Bekko shifted a bit, falling half-way onto his Yuuta's shoulder. The Undertaker ducked unnecessarily, shaking.

BANGBANGBANGBANGBANG-

"Shito, you moron!" A certain spiky-haired boy yelled. "You take that back!" He fired off a few more shots, obviously infuriated.

Said 'moron' simply reeled back to avoid the gunshots, whipping around to neatly slam the previously opened door closed in Chika's face. "You," he said calmly, dusting off his black shirt, creased with white dust, "are very annoying."

It was true, Yuuta reflected, as Chika's I'm-gonna-kill-you face loses its glamour when one is introduced to it every day.

Shito stalked back to a series of stairs on the side of the warehouse, flicking on a series of lights that shone through the steel grate of the second floor. Yuuta waved.

The Undertaker jumped as a piercing whistle filled the air, mingled with Chika's swearing and alternately firing off more shots. The door rattled—Bekko had long expected the pair's daily fights to escalate into something like this, so his shots pinged harmlessly off into the air and dissolved.

Yuuta got up, laid Bekko's head back onto the back of the couch, and rescued the whistling kettle from the heat.

When Chika's yelling abated and Shito had probably long gone off to his room to either sulk or sleep (as Yuuta didn't know what he did in his spare time,) he laid a cup of rose tea in front of the Undertaker and tugged a blanket out from one of the drawers under the table to drape over Bekko.

He retreated to his expansive desk with the rest of the tea, the sleek black desktop humming gently with the machinery. The rectangle-frame lights flickered off as he gave the commands for it to power down. The computer screen blazed to life with lines and lines of code, just a little pet project for him to work on.

Yuuta smiled to himself and sipped his tea, one hand flying across the keyboard as he did so. An email notification from Shito, when clicked on, revealed the daily zombie count. Yuuta divided the money without a second thought, smiling in satisfaction when he noted the amount depleted from his debt.

All in a day's work.


End file.
